I don't know how long this blog will be but I felt like I owed it to everyone to write this, on the eve of one of the most important moment in my life. The day went by so fast to me. It is a Thursday that I could easily forget except that it is also my deceased brother's birthday. That I would never forget.
First, I woke up this morning with a kink in my neck laying across my bed with a pile of unfolded clothes, my cat Basil blinking at me. This was because I know my Aunt Barbara, my cancer fighting warrior and knowing her I figured she was coming well before the 6pm hour she had told me previously. In an attempt to anticipate the early arrival I came right home from work and began doing a deep cleaning. I was all of 30 minutes in and I passed out exactly where I sat watching "Family Guy".
My Mom had already jetted to dialysis and the adventure via JTA to her podiatrist and I was alone. "Johnny Test" was now on, the sun was shining bright and I was behind. I jumped up, pulled my hair back and began to do multiple tasks at a time. It was only 830am. By 1045, true to form, my Aunt Barbara calls me lost at Dunn Avenue because they've changed the signs to 9A to read 295 North. I go into hyper drive and finish the house, wash the funk off, just in time to answer the door.
By then it was time to go shopping for all my post surgical diet items and as I get to the foods I begin to freak out. No more "good eats". No more regular size meals. I am saying goodbye to it all. I don't know what happens after tomorrow, my future is an excitingly blank slate. WOW.
The rest of the day was a blur, probably because I forgot to eat and my sugar was bottoming out, something I fear for the future or maybe because the injury of only a few weeks ago flared up. All I know is suddenly I was struggling to remain upright and I was mentally done. I drank some water, ate dinner and began to feel better but even still I just was all over the place and I kept zoning out. My mother leaned over and whispered she sang my brother happy birthday and felt like he was there with her today. My aunt said the same. I just took a step back and reflected. My brother is always close to me and yet just out of reach on any given day. I am particularly sad on his birthday because I know that it is one more he will never see. I regret not being able to save him. Today was different though, I am still sad but I feel buoyed by love, not only his, but everyone on this side and the next. I feel both sad for the friend (food) that I am leaving behind and excited that I am loved, I have felt loved even as a super obese person, and that love will stay big and warm around me as the weight falls down like so much rain.
I am not big on bible verses and sermons. Hey if anyone has been paying attention I just attended my first church service in 18 years. Tonight though, as it rolls over to midnight and a new day, I have to draw strength and calm from the two sermons from the pastor of the church I hope to soon belong to. The most recent one was: though the world seems overwhelming and poison (snake bites) are trying to take you out, you have got to "SHAKE IT OFF". The first sermon I heard pretty much described the last 10 years of my life and put it into perspective for me. "CHANGE LOOKS LIKE CHAOS UNTIL THE WORK IS DONE." It's been a long time people but the work is coming to completion and I know I've looked a many kind of ways in the past, maybe like I wasn't going to be part of those who made it through but God moves in me suddenly and surely. I may look like a hot mess but that's God, he just aint through with me yet.
God bless us all and thank you in advance for pulling me through this even when I counted myself out.
Yours Always,
Fat Girl
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Friday, April 27, 2012
Long Time No Write
It's been a rough few months and March and April usually are for me. From the birthday and the death of my grandmother, who I loved dearly and respected as a mentor to the driving death of my cousin 13 years ago to finally the acidic bitter pill of justice denied in the 10th year of my brother's murder going unsolved. I am indeed starting out this blog in a bad place. Every time I have sat down to write I have stopped after only a few words because there was just no positivity coming through these fingers. Now, after running from the darkness desperately for the last three months I am finally beaten, exhausted, and willing to accept that I need to express myself regardless of whether there is sunshine and smiles or tears and rage. It just needs to come out and if I don't have a release then I am going t slip away.
I straightened my hair for the first time in about three years. At first I thought it was great and I enjoyed the positive reaction I got but at the end of two weeks I started remembering the reason I went natural in the first damn place. While I initially wanted to cut it all off after the first week in rebellion I had to stop and think about it. As mentioned previously, this is also the reason I am obese. Along that train of thought, this is not healthy. That leaves me with feelings of confusion. Is it me because I can't take a compliment or I see them as back handed? Is it everyone else's misconception of beauty? Is it the fact I need to look to focus more or less on what people think to obtain my goals? In the one hand I enjoy being treated like a lady, particularly by guys. I have had more guys hit on me with my long flowing hair than when I was 100lbs lighter with my short natural locks. Really? What about my hair is so much more appealing? Do we as blacks really hate ourselves so much? Are we so programmed? I think of my cousin Keisha and her choice to be natural for years now and I think of my godchild Kat. I even think of the daughter I have yet to give life to and may never. Should I teach her to love herself from the inside to her naturally African American self or should I program her into a more commercialized, Anglo-Saxon version that the world can praise her for? I can't speak for every black girl. I can't speak for every impressionable girl, I can only reflect as a biracial child, seeking...needing a place to fit. When I think of ideal beauty I think of my grandmother Mary w/o a stitch of make-up, compact and neat, always looking like she owned the place. She could go deaconess chic or bingo granny slumming and whatever the look she was gorgeous in my eyes. I never saw her hair past her shoulder but always combed no mater the occasion. I appreciate texture in our women's hair. I think it is one of God's greatest creations and yet we torture it straight, chemically saturate it until it is too confused to do anything, let alone grow and in the end will probably just fall out. Yet I realize in these last few weeks, if I just submit, and play the game, opportunities for the greater good abound.
I initially started writing this on April 24th and it is now April 25th and I have been approved for Gastric Sleeve surgery. My surgery date is May 11, 2012. The moment is bitter sweet because there has never been a time in my life where food was not a constant stress reliever, source of joy, and sometimes friend where the rest of the world has failed me. I am programmed to look to food to solve all my problems and very abruptly, in two weeks time that will be snatched away from me. Hopefully for life but whether I choose to follow my diet or not at least 6 months. I am both excited to see my clavicle after all these years and frightened that after all this I'm still going to be that same old fat girl asking myself "Now what Tish?". I am a natural introvert who boarders on being autistic which is where I believe I get my creative side from. I would rather hole up in my house for the rest of my life reading my books, typing my blogs, watching episodes of Vamp Diaries, True Blood, and Dexter than to go window shopping, or on a date, or even to hang out at someone else's house. Social awkwardness doesn't even begin to cover it folks. When I felt uncomfortable there are two fail safes and one of them was food. I ask that the Lord and all of my friends who have shown nothing but support for me continue to encourage me towards healthier habits and healthier outlets for my "awkwardness". Particularly now that I have to say goodbye to an old friend. Until next time friends.
The One and Only,
Fat Girl
I straightened my hair for the first time in about three years. At first I thought it was great and I enjoyed the positive reaction I got but at the end of two weeks I started remembering the reason I went natural in the first damn place. While I initially wanted to cut it all off after the first week in rebellion I had to stop and think about it. As mentioned previously, this is also the reason I am obese. Along that train of thought, this is not healthy. That leaves me with feelings of confusion. Is it me because I can't take a compliment or I see them as back handed? Is it everyone else's misconception of beauty? Is it the fact I need to look to focus more or less on what people think to obtain my goals? In the one hand I enjoy being treated like a lady, particularly by guys. I have had more guys hit on me with my long flowing hair than when I was 100lbs lighter with my short natural locks. Really? What about my hair is so much more appealing? Do we as blacks really hate ourselves so much? Are we so programmed? I think of my cousin Keisha and her choice to be natural for years now and I think of my godchild Kat. I even think of the daughter I have yet to give life to and may never. Should I teach her to love herself from the inside to her naturally African American self or should I program her into a more commercialized, Anglo-Saxon version that the world can praise her for? I can't speak for every black girl. I can't speak for every impressionable girl, I can only reflect as a biracial child, seeking...needing a place to fit. When I think of ideal beauty I think of my grandmother Mary w/o a stitch of make-up, compact and neat, always looking like she owned the place. She could go deaconess chic or bingo granny slumming and whatever the look she was gorgeous in my eyes. I never saw her hair past her shoulder but always combed no mater the occasion. I appreciate texture in our women's hair. I think it is one of God's greatest creations and yet we torture it straight, chemically saturate it until it is too confused to do anything, let alone grow and in the end will probably just fall out. Yet I realize in these last few weeks, if I just submit, and play the game, opportunities for the greater good abound.
I initially started writing this on April 24th and it is now April 25th and I have been approved for Gastric Sleeve surgery. My surgery date is May 11, 2012. The moment is bitter sweet because there has never been a time in my life where food was not a constant stress reliever, source of joy, and sometimes friend where the rest of the world has failed me. I am programmed to look to food to solve all my problems and very abruptly, in two weeks time that will be snatched away from me. Hopefully for life but whether I choose to follow my diet or not at least 6 months. I am both excited to see my clavicle after all these years and frightened that after all this I'm still going to be that same old fat girl asking myself "Now what Tish?". I am a natural introvert who boarders on being autistic which is where I believe I get my creative side from. I would rather hole up in my house for the rest of my life reading my books, typing my blogs, watching episodes of Vamp Diaries, True Blood, and Dexter than to go window shopping, or on a date, or even to hang out at someone else's house. Social awkwardness doesn't even begin to cover it folks. When I felt uncomfortable there are two fail safes and one of them was food. I ask that the Lord and all of my friends who have shown nothing but support for me continue to encourage me towards healthier habits and healthier outlets for my "awkwardness". Particularly now that I have to say goodbye to an old friend. Until next time friends.
The One and Only,
Fat Girl
Friday, February 17, 2012
Another Good Step...
I am having a wonderful year as I move towards having my vertical sleeve. My Mom and I are fresh off a cruise that was amazing as much as the weather was cold and turbulent. We had a blast not because of great weather but because we were together and the rest of the world didn't matter. For four days we were out of touch and it was amazing! When we got back I jumped right back into chaos. They floated me off the floor that next Tuesday and I had a blast. I miss the joy Oncology nursing used to bring me and I now wonder if there is another specialty that would suit me better...or maybe just another floor/hospital. In the meantime, this is all I'm going to/willing to give credence to. I love my coworkers and I'm excited to be there after the surgery for them to see the results.
So today, I went to see the cardiologist for cardiac clearance. Dr. Nehu Patel is my doctor and he is wonderful! I hate to keep gushing about my doctors but they ARE really good. Anyway, I went in for a 2D echo which I had three years ago and a stress test that I have never had before. The echo was done in a midrift baring paper gown by an asian, male, tech. He was totally professional but it was hardly relaxing with my boobs trying to fall out of the bottom of the gown. So I was a little stressed to say the least. When I was finished I go into the next room to await my stress test. Then the doctor and the tech begin discussing an echo where they found an MI (myocardial infarction or heart attack). That increased my stress another few notches thinking I have had a heart attack I didn't recognize. I pretty much was almost at max heart rate by then from the stress but the nurse was so nice. I found out later everyone that they were not talking about me and in short I was cleared for surgery by Dr. Patel who then gave me a pep talk and wished me luck and told me to call him as needed.
As I drove off I realized that God is really clearing my path for this surgery. He has gave me amazing, professional, doctors, who actually seem to care for their patients. It is so different from the set of doctors I had three years ago and VERY much so from 10 years ago when I first attempted to get a Roux N Y. This just feels right and the nay sayers aren't moving me. God love them but this going to happen and I will be a success. I don't know when but all of my obstacles are evaporating like mist in the face of the sun.
So today, I went to see the cardiologist for cardiac clearance. Dr. Nehu Patel is my doctor and he is wonderful! I hate to keep gushing about my doctors but they ARE really good. Anyway, I went in for a 2D echo which I had three years ago and a stress test that I have never had before. The echo was done in a midrift baring paper gown by an asian, male, tech. He was totally professional but it was hardly relaxing with my boobs trying to fall out of the bottom of the gown. So I was a little stressed to say the least. When I was finished I go into the next room to await my stress test. Then the doctor and the tech begin discussing an echo where they found an MI (myocardial infarction or heart attack). That increased my stress another few notches thinking I have had a heart attack I didn't recognize. I pretty much was almost at max heart rate by then from the stress but the nurse was so nice. I found out later everyone that they were not talking about me and in short I was cleared for surgery by Dr. Patel who then gave me a pep talk and wished me luck and told me to call him as needed.
As I drove off I realized that God is really clearing my path for this surgery. He has gave me amazing, professional, doctors, who actually seem to care for their patients. It is so different from the set of doctors I had three years ago and VERY much so from 10 years ago when I first attempted to get a Roux N Y. This just feels right and the nay sayers aren't moving me. God love them but this going to happen and I will be a success. I don't know when but all of my obstacles are evaporating like mist in the face of the sun.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Hard to Say Goodbye...2011
It's always this time of year that I hunker down to write New Year's resolutions. About three years ago I stopped doing that and instead began doing a "Best/Worst of" list of the year where I would list what was good about the year and what was awful. This year though I didn't want to do it anymore. I didn't want to dream of what I could do better, what I had accomplished in the space of 365 days, or what I had failed at as another 12 months had passed me by. My life is so much bigger than that and so much more rich than a list of anything can possibly express.
For this new year I want to simply make the most of it and use the time to reflect on all the years before it. This is a very big year to me and it wasn't supposed to be so but over the years it just kept building in momentum until I'm standing at the precipice of something much bigger than me. I've gained a peek at God's path for me and it feels so...what's the word I want to use...sometimes enlightening, sometimes justified, and sometimes overwhelming. I have learned a whole lot about myself in the short span of time called a year, a blip in the yawning distance of eternity. I have given myself a hard honest look as a human being, not as a black or biracial woman, not as a sister, or a daughter, a niece, a cousin, a nurse, an aunt, or a friend. I examined myself as I saw me and rationalized with my own expectations and found myself here, at the beginning of a new chapter long over due.
My father's illegitimate son found my Facebook page and reached out to me. It was the first time I ever called into question my decision not to know him. If I was being fair to him for placing upon his head his parent's crimes against me and my life and made the first revelation about my character in the two page letter I wrote him back. His response was the first acceptable closure I got in my life. I have to move on and I don't have to have approval from those that know me or those that don't, it's not about my father or the woman he slept with, it is about me. We will never be siblings through no fault of my own and I am perfectly content with that. Whether his life is good or bad I have no control over that nor do I wish to have it.
Another thing happened among a thousand. I stopped making the people in my life saints and accepted, dead or alive that we are only human. It was a change for me because along with the elevated pedestal I put my family on, particularly those in heaven, came an overwhelming guilt for not giving MORE of myself to them while they were alive. I don't owe my life or happiness to anyone. I can't blame the lack thereof on anyone either. As stated earlier, it is hard to say goodbye but by letting go I will finally open myself up to all the rest that I've been missing.
For this new year I want to simply make the most of it and use the time to reflect on all the years before it. This is a very big year to me and it wasn't supposed to be so but over the years it just kept building in momentum until I'm standing at the precipice of something much bigger than me. I've gained a peek at God's path for me and it feels so...what's the word I want to use...sometimes enlightening, sometimes justified, and sometimes overwhelming. I have learned a whole lot about myself in the short span of time called a year, a blip in the yawning distance of eternity. I have given myself a hard honest look as a human being, not as a black or biracial woman, not as a sister, or a daughter, a niece, a cousin, a nurse, an aunt, or a friend. I examined myself as I saw me and rationalized with my own expectations and found myself here, at the beginning of a new chapter long over due.
My father's illegitimate son found my Facebook page and reached out to me. It was the first time I ever called into question my decision not to know him. If I was being fair to him for placing upon his head his parent's crimes against me and my life and made the first revelation about my character in the two page letter I wrote him back. His response was the first acceptable closure I got in my life. I have to move on and I don't have to have approval from those that know me or those that don't, it's not about my father or the woman he slept with, it is about me. We will never be siblings through no fault of my own and I am perfectly content with that. Whether his life is good or bad I have no control over that nor do I wish to have it.
Another thing happened among a thousand. I stopped making the people in my life saints and accepted, dead or alive that we are only human. It was a change for me because along with the elevated pedestal I put my family on, particularly those in heaven, came an overwhelming guilt for not giving MORE of myself to them while they were alive. I don't owe my life or happiness to anyone. I can't blame the lack thereof on anyone either. As stated earlier, it is hard to say goodbye but by letting go I will finally open myself up to all the rest that I've been missing.
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Another year wiser...
So in only a couple of hours I will turn 32 years old. Thirty-two...wow, as my brother said, I am getting old. That's okay though, I'm taking everyone with me! Muhahahahahaha! Now that I have that out of the way, I can proceed with the blog.
I am scared as hell y'all. Not so much about the surgery because for some reason since nursing school I have followed Dr. Webb. I feel very comfortable with him as my surgeon. It's more what I'm going to do after the surgery to prevent myself from ever coming back this way again. I never want to be this big again. I am absolutely miserable in my skin! Bills keep climbing, I can't catch a break, and I just want to focus on this process but the world won't let me. November is my birth month but I want the day of my surgery to be my burfday...no joke, I will forever celebrate that as my BURFDAY.
If I come begging for clothes you guys have to help me and if you see me eating anything I shouldn't, you don't have to smack me in the back of the head, my stomach's going to do that for me ;-)
"Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow." --Albert Einstein
Night y'all and here's to the big 3-2!
Fat Girl
I am scared as hell y'all. Not so much about the surgery because for some reason since nursing school I have followed Dr. Webb. I feel very comfortable with him as my surgeon. It's more what I'm going to do after the surgery to prevent myself from ever coming back this way again. I never want to be this big again. I am absolutely miserable in my skin! Bills keep climbing, I can't catch a break, and I just want to focus on this process but the world won't let me. November is my birth month but I want the day of my surgery to be my burfday...no joke, I will forever celebrate that as my BURFDAY.
If I come begging for clothes you guys have to help me and if you see me eating anything I shouldn't, you don't have to smack me in the back of the head, my stomach's going to do that for me ;-)
"Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for tomorrow." --Albert Einstein
Night y'all and here's to the big 3-2!
Fat Girl
Monday, October 17, 2011
Rip Van Me
I thought about what I would post all weekend and resolved to post today. At the end of it all I just decided to write it out. This week is a week of stress along the lines of weight loss. I am busting out of all my clothes and feel so damn frumpy but I refuse to buy more clothes. One, I will soon be throwing away/donating all my clothes anyway at a rapid fire rate. Two, shopping for clothes depresses me because most clothes in stores don't even fit me.
My depression also makes me unhappy with however I look. My mother's nephrologist told me I look like a totally different person when I'm not in the hospital. It's unfortunate I still feel like a troll. I have patient's tell me I have beautiful skin all the time but to me it looks oily and shiny, and of course there is too much of it. I alternate from breaking down and relaxing my hair and cutting it all off. Oh and this is me AFTER Wellbutrin. I have always thought that I had a healthy dose of self esteem but as I draw closer to the surgery date and anxiety grows about life after weight loss, I'm realizing I have none. I wonder if I ever really had it or have been coasting through on dumb luck and bravado.
It's like this, the soul searching continues and must delve deeper into who I am and have always been. I am proud of the adult I have grown into but so much of my potential has been stunted by my weight. I feel lost in my teenage years, swallowed by what I have been fooling myself into thinking were long dead insecurities. I keep waiting for someone to sort it out for me and give me direction but no sage, wisdom filled, voice from the past has presented itself yet. In its place are endless hopes for companionship, bitterness about not finding someone that feels I'm the woman of their dreams, and the echoes of yearning for my own children instead of always being the aunt, the cousin, the godmommy to someone else. I feel as if I've been sleeping for the last 15 years and while I am anticipating the journey, in so many ways, I have a fear of what I'll find once I wake up.
I am working on being less EMO but utilizing the outlet is already reflecting positively in managing anxiety, stress, and depression. There will be rainbows after the rain as well as a butt load of puddles. I just have to deal with it hour by hour, day by day. My quote for the day is a fave of mine. "It was always the becoming he dreamed of, never the being." -F. Scott Fitzgerald
Love yourself,
Fat Girl
Monday, October 10, 2011
Coming Out of the Fridge
Today, or rather yesterday, I came clean to my Facebook Friends that I am getting weight loss surgery. Last week I came clean to my co-workers. I was met with the usual responses, most give me encouragement and support, some begin suggesting diets that may or may not have been successful for them, some try to scare me. I am numb to it all. Not because I can't deal with it but because I have been on this road for so long! I was a chunky baby and it never got any better. My grandmother, bless her soul, put me on my first clinician supervised diet when I was 14. I was 214 pounds then. I lost 15lbs over the next year with walking with my uncles, her neighbors, and alas even my grandmother, the 5'2" stick swinging virago. It felt great but was shortly followed by the worst year of my life. My grandmother's breast cancer returned, if it was ever really gone, my mother moved us to Jacksonville, FL, into a trailer park and every black man within a one mile radius began making passes at me. While I was only 15, I looked "old enough". By the time I was molested for the second time in my life, I began eating myself into an asexual state of mind. I don't think I talk to anyone outside of family who knew me from back then but that woman that was awakening in me died, she was smothered by all the food I was eating. By the time I arrived in highschool I was more alone than I had ever felt in my life. I spent all of freshman year sitting alone in the cafeteria or outside on the patio in a dark place, praying for answers. God sent me good friends, great friends that calmed the beast and I muddled through a lot of personal drama focusing on college and the beautiful life waiting for me after I was done with school.
Only nothing went the way it was supposed to. I went to college and struggled to work (in order to pay for the classes) and make it to the full time schedule of classes. I never learned to relate to the vapid youth I took classes with. I didn't understand them and they didn't understand me. I dropped out and went to work at Walmart full time. The following year I got the job at Citibank and was fooled into the idea I didn't need college, that I could do this for a while and publish a few books by the time I was 30 and I would be alright. Sit down job plus fat friends who love to eat plus credit cards and 90% of your income to spend on food and travel only packed on the pounds. I looked into the Roux-N-Y for the first time at 22. I was 377lbs at weigh in with a doctor doing the surgery in Celebration, FL. My brother Jeffrey was against me having the surgery because he knew so little about it and he was afraid for me going under the knife. For the first time my brothers expressed love for me...within months of this my brother was brutally murdered. I felt it was a sign from God for a long time that I was not meant to have the surgery.
It's been almost a decade since. I have still continued to view myself as an asexual person, I have somehow found myself taking care of my disabled mother, watching over my baby brother, and taking on the burden of my new nephew, who is not himself a burden but his well being and happiness weighs heavy on my mind. I digress.
I quit Citibank after they began moving me towards selling to elderly or confused people to make a paycheck. I worked at Washington Mutual, my dream job, all the OT I wanted, a position of seniority, and a false calm. The mortgage portion of the company went belly up after 2 years and my eyes were suddenly open to the struggles of the working class my ancestors had struggled through my whole life. A long dormant dream came to mind and caught fire then. I had wanted to be a nurse but my low self confidence and fear of math had stopped me. I felt I owed my baby brother something to look up to though and my mother something to be proud of. I began taking prerequisites for it and signed up for MRC, a metabolic diet plan that cost a fortune but WORKS. I went from 368 to 299. It was the best thing that ever happened to me and I began to feel like a woman again. It gave me the confidence to pull through school and get my current job...then I became sick. Two years ago, I lost my right kidney to the protein overload of the diet I had been on. I don't blame the company, I blame myself. I went hard...too hard.
So that leads up to my current situation. I am back up to 375, all the health problems I had at 22 and this weight are back as well as some new ones now that I am an RN that abuses my body as an occupational hazard AND my diabetes type II has set in. Exercise doesn't seem to work and with my only workout partner I feel like I'm actually hurting myself. My stress is way higher than it was back then with my family looking at me as "the responsible decision maker". My uncle, with whom I had a strained relationship at best because of issues he had with me being biracial, died in a freak accident in February, my aunt was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer, and lastly my mother began dialysis. I began to eat again and the weight I had staved off at 320-330 suddenly spun out of control in response. That leads me here, making a decision to drastically change my life.
I want this more than anything right now. I see it as an escape from floor nursing. I see it as a way to be a woman again, not just a counselor, support system, or martyr for her family. I see it as an escape from the health problems that plague my mother, and finally I just see it as freedom. I want this and even more important, I deserve it. This is not a spur of the moment decision but rather a painfully life long destination I am tired of visiting. I leave you with this quote, "If you want to live a happy life, tie it to a goal, not to people or things." --Albert Einstein
Goal On,
Fat Girl
Only nothing went the way it was supposed to. I went to college and struggled to work (in order to pay for the classes) and make it to the full time schedule of classes. I never learned to relate to the vapid youth I took classes with. I didn't understand them and they didn't understand me. I dropped out and went to work at Walmart full time. The following year I got the job at Citibank and was fooled into the idea I didn't need college, that I could do this for a while and publish a few books by the time I was 30 and I would be alright. Sit down job plus fat friends who love to eat plus credit cards and 90% of your income to spend on food and travel only packed on the pounds. I looked into the Roux-N-Y for the first time at 22. I was 377lbs at weigh in with a doctor doing the surgery in Celebration, FL. My brother Jeffrey was against me having the surgery because he knew so little about it and he was afraid for me going under the knife. For the first time my brothers expressed love for me...within months of this my brother was brutally murdered. I felt it was a sign from God for a long time that I was not meant to have the surgery.
It's been almost a decade since. I have still continued to view myself as an asexual person, I have somehow found myself taking care of my disabled mother, watching over my baby brother, and taking on the burden of my new nephew, who is not himself a burden but his well being and happiness weighs heavy on my mind. I digress.
I quit Citibank after they began moving me towards selling to elderly or confused people to make a paycheck. I worked at Washington Mutual, my dream job, all the OT I wanted, a position of seniority, and a false calm. The mortgage portion of the company went belly up after 2 years and my eyes were suddenly open to the struggles of the working class my ancestors had struggled through my whole life. A long dormant dream came to mind and caught fire then. I had wanted to be a nurse but my low self confidence and fear of math had stopped me. I felt I owed my baby brother something to look up to though and my mother something to be proud of. I began taking prerequisites for it and signed up for MRC, a metabolic diet plan that cost a fortune but WORKS. I went from 368 to 299. It was the best thing that ever happened to me and I began to feel like a woman again. It gave me the confidence to pull through school and get my current job...then I became sick. Two years ago, I lost my right kidney to the protein overload of the diet I had been on. I don't blame the company, I blame myself. I went hard...too hard.
So that leads up to my current situation. I am back up to 375, all the health problems I had at 22 and this weight are back as well as some new ones now that I am an RN that abuses my body as an occupational hazard AND my diabetes type II has set in. Exercise doesn't seem to work and with my only workout partner I feel like I'm actually hurting myself. My stress is way higher than it was back then with my family looking at me as "the responsible decision maker". My uncle, with whom I had a strained relationship at best because of issues he had with me being biracial, died in a freak accident in February, my aunt was diagnosed with aggressive breast cancer, and lastly my mother began dialysis. I began to eat again and the weight I had staved off at 320-330 suddenly spun out of control in response. That leads me here, making a decision to drastically change my life.
I want this more than anything right now. I see it as an escape from floor nursing. I see it as a way to be a woman again, not just a counselor, support system, or martyr for her family. I see it as an escape from the health problems that plague my mother, and finally I just see it as freedom. I want this and even more important, I deserve it. This is not a spur of the moment decision but rather a painfully life long destination I am tired of visiting. I leave you with this quote, "If you want to live a happy life, tie it to a goal, not to people or things." --Albert Einstein
Goal On,
Fat Girl
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